Stating the Bloody Obvious
by swerley
Summary: Hermione's running out of options. One-shot. EWE. Pure Fluff. Rated for adult themes, but no actual lemons were harmed.


_Anti-Litigation Charm: I don't own it; JKR does._

Stating the Bloody Obvious

He watched her covertly from behind his hair as she made her way into the Great Hall. Just as every morning after a date, she shuffled along to her regular seat next to Minerva with her chin up, but without meeting anyone's eyes.

"Well?" Minerva cut right to the point. Severus busied himself with smearing jam on his toast, making a show of ignoring his colleagues while listening intently to their conversation. "What was wrong with this one?" she asked with a touch of exasperation.

Hermione flinched, expecting the admonishment, but unprepared to answer. She shrugged. "He seemed rather full of himself, if you must know," she offered while pouring herself a cup of tea. "He spent the entire evening regaling me with his multitude accomplishments, the various acclaims he's received, the size of his bank account and so on," Hermione explained, sipping her tea delicately. "What I want to know is, where was he during the war while the rest of us were risking our necks? How can I possibly admire someone who hid out in another country while I fought?"

Nearly every Saturday morning it was a variation of the same conversation. He had to admit he was baffled by her reluctance to build a relationship with some of the suitors he'd heard about.

It had turned into somewhat of a sport around the castle. All of her co-workers, Severus excluded, had set Hermione up with at least one date. Her friends, family and past schoolmates had all had a hand in it. There was hardly a single wizard in Britain who hadn't gone out with her at one time or another. She was now working her way through foreign wizards. She had even dated a few Muggles.

None of them lasted for more than two dates.

Severus began to wonder if she was frigid. Or possibly lesbian. But no, she'd displayed no interest at all in the female sex. Was she asexual then, trying to force herself into the accepted mold of convention?

He snorted at himself. Why did he care? Until she'd taken over Arithmancy for Septima Vector two years ago when Vector had married and moved to Portugal, he hadn't heard much about her since the war and hardly gave her a passing thought. She'd stayed out of the spotlight, unlike Weasley, preferring to protect her privacy. Severus had to reluctantly commend her for that. She was not influenced by the praise of the press.

Molly Weasley had tried to attach her to Charlie, Percy and George, successively, once the youngest's attention had strayed elsewhere. Apparently, long association to the Weasleys had ingrained a deep brotherly affection for the lot of them, so there was no development in their respective attempts to marry her into the family, despite Molly's prodding.

Harry had set her up with all of the eligible bachelor Aurors. Almost to a man, they displayed bravery, strength and a strong sense of justice, but still she found fault with each and every one. Adams was too loud. Brocklehurst wasn't serious enough, joking around too much for her liking. Grant had a decided attachment to his mother.

The Quidditch players Victor Krum introduced her to were athletic to be sure, but the intelligence quotient was well below acceptable, except for Victor himself who had, unfortunately for Hermione, married a young woman he had met while on tour with the Bulgarian National Quidditch team.

Ginny coerced most of the Ministry bachelors throughout her tenure there to go out with Hermione, until she took leave of absence for her pregnancies. The men's reluctance to discuss Ministry policy for fear of losing their jobs turned Hermione off dating any further Ministry toadies.

The wizards she met in the pubs usually had glazed-over eyes, whether from the alcohol or her favorite topic of conversation – books – she wasn't sure – by the time she said good night.

The two wizards she had managed to get into deep discussions with about potions and Voldemort turned out to be blowhards who couldn't brew a decent potion to save his life regardless of his knowledge of the topic, in the first case, and ignorant of the causes of the recent war and spouting pure blood rhetoric, in the case of the second.

"Sounds to me as though you're destined to spinsterhood," commented Rolanda Hooch. "Not that there's anything wrong with that," she was quick to add. "I, for one, am perfectly happy as a single woman."

Pomona Sprout snorted. "Only because you don't want to be tied down to only one witch or wizard," she muttered quietly, careful to keep her voice from reaching beyond the teachers' table. Hooch smirked at her.

"You're going to have a difficult time finding anyone to meet your criteria, Hermione," Minerva warned. "Now that Ronald has married Daphne, and Draco has moved in with Harry, you'll have trouble finding anyone who was involved in the war as much as you were."

"There's Pr'fesser Snape," Hagrid piped up helpfully.

Snape froze, his fork hovering in mid-air.

Hermione blanched.

The entire table held their collective breath.

"I shouldna' said tha'," Hagrid said mournfully, registering everyone's shocked expressions.

Snape stood, his chair's legs screeching painfully loud in the dead-quiet. "Excuse me," he snarled, then turned and hastily left the dais through the side door in an angry swirl of black robes.

Hermione debated with herself for several seconds before finally following him. She caught up to him just as he was entering his office.

"Severus, wait!" she begged, gasping to catch her breath from running after him.

Snape spun around to glare down at her, his anger a physical presence between them. "Congratulations, Miss Granger," he spat venomously, "it's been a number of years since I was the brunt of a joke. I'd hardly have thought you capable. I guess I must be losing my touch."

"It's not a joke," she whispered, unable to meet his eyes. Instead, she stared at his buttons as she forced herself to tell the truth. "I didn't want you to find out. I'm sorry," she apologized, blushing.

Not comprehending what she was saying, he continued to glare, still shaking with rage. "Just what, then, are you apologizing for?" he bit out through clenched teeth.

Hermione swallowed nervously. "I tried to ignore it. I thought, I hoped – if I could find somebody who took my fancy I'd be able to move on. I mean, the last thing you need is a ridiculous Gryffindor bookworm thinking herself in love with you," she admitted tremulously.

"Spare me, you insolent girl! You expect me to believe you desire me?" he scoffed. She looked as though he'd slapped her. "What's the matter? Have you run out of respectable suitors in Britain, and now you've decided you want to try on a bit of rough?"

"Stop it!" she cried. "I told you, I didn't want you to know. I knew there was no chance you'd take me seriously. Or that you'd be interested in a relationship with me at all. That's precisely why I didn't let on."

He paled, finally taking in her tears and indignation. "You're serious?" She nodded. "Are you telling me _Hagrid_ was _right_?" She choked on her supressed giggle, but nodded again. "Good god, I thought he was joking," he muttered, incredulous.

"Hagrid is incapable of telling a joke," Hermione murmured. "He stated the bloody obvious, just like he always does."

"So does this mean you want to date me, Hermione?" he asked suspiciously.

"No. I want a great deal more than that, Severus," Hermione purred.

_~fin~_


End file.
